


Valentine’s Day

by LydiaBSlade



Series: Destination Unknown [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Military, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, BenArmie AU, Blow Jobs, Brief Unhappy Hux/OFC, Does it count as hurt/comfort if they hurt each other and then comfort each other?, Dysfunctional Relationships, First Time Bottoming, Hux is bad at being a person, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Referenced Mitaka/Thanisson, Referenced Rey/Finn/Poe, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaBSlade/pseuds/LydiaBSlade
Summary: Hux kisses a girl and does not like it. Neither does Ben.





	Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> I know that het content is a dealbreaker for a lot of people, so please rest assured that all the explicit content is still Kylux. See endnotes for more detailed content warnings.
> 
> Also, for clarity, this story is set partly at West Point in early 2004, so the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy was still in effect, and pay phones were still a thing that humans used.

On a Tuesday afternoon in early February, someone knocks on Hux’s door. He looks up, annoyed: he is working on the capstone robot project that will complete his Fundamentals of Electrical Engineering sequence, and he doesn’t appreciate the interruption. 

With great difficulty, Hux had managed to persuade his teammates that they needed to start the project early. Under his close supervision, he allowed them to assemble the hardware - snapping together the wheels and metal framework from a kit, then soldering in the electrical components - before confiscating the assembled robot so that he could work on programming it in peace. 

The assignment is to create a robot that can track Osama Bin Ladin through a cave. When it’s completed, the robot will be able to find its way through a maze, follow a flashlight, and beep the National Anthem. Presently, however, it has a tendency to get stuck in corners. At the moment, it has managed to trap itself somewhere under Hux’s bed; he can hear it whirring faintly in the darkness. 

He opens the door to find one of his squadmates from basic training - a stocky, friendly blond kid named Roberts, who has curly hair and a perpetually sunburned square face. They worked together to plan a shooting range for their company in October, but otherwise they don’t particularly seek each other out. “Yes?” Hux says, trying not to sound peevish. “Did you need something?”

“Hey, Hux,” says Roberts, smiling at him. “Can I come in? I need to ask you something. Kind of personal.”

“Sure,” says Hux, stepping back from the door and trying unsuccessfully to imagine what any sort of personal conversation with Roberts might entail. Roberts plays rugby, he remembers. Hux spent a certain amount of time during basic training trying not to notice how muscular his thighs were in his PT shorts. 

To Hux’s unspoken irritation, Roberts sits down on Hux’s neatly-made bed, wrinkling it. He looks at Hux expectantly. “So this is kind of awkward,” he says, “but do you have a date to the Valentine’s Day dance?”

For a startled moment, Hux wonders if Roberts is about to ask him out. Then he reminds himself that that would be ridiculous. Roberts is one of those guys, Hux thinks jealously, who somehow projects an effortless, unaffected heterosexuality at all times, even when he isn’t doing anything in particular. “No,” says Hux. “Why?”

“Well, my family is coming up from Dallas that week,” Roberts says, “and my sister Brooke really wants to come to a West Point dance. But she doesn’t want to dance with her brother.” Hux, who is still half-thinking about his robot’s turning radius, wonders what any of this has to do with him. “Would you be interested in taking her? To the dance?”

Hux opens and shuts his mouth. “Um,” he says. 

“I feel weird saying this, because she’s my little sister and she’s a pain in the ass,” Roberts says, “but she’s pretty, and a good girl, really. She’s a cheerleader. Honestly, I wouldn’t want her hanging around a lot of the guys here. But I trust you, Hux. I know you’ll be a gentleman.”

“Thanks,” says Hux suspiciously, wondering if Roberts is being sincere or if this remark is a dig at Hux’s obvious lack of interest in women.

“So what do you think?” Roberts asked. “I can give you her phone number if you’d like to talk to her about it first.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” says Hux, who has no desire to have any more awkward conversations about this subject. His mind ticks through the implications. He doesn’t think anyone’s suspicions have been aroused by the fact that he doesn’t have a girlfriend, since everyone is aware that it’s difficult to find one at a school where men outnumber women eight to one. But, for the same reason, it might seem odd for Hux to refuse to let a friend fix him up. Especially since Hux is uncomfortably aware that he has never been able to convincingly join in the routine barracks chatter about the relative sexual merits of the female cadets, his male classmates’ ex-girlfriends, the various Jessicas (Alba, Simpson, and Biel), and any other woman who visits the base or appears on TV. And then there are Ben’s frequent visits, which Hux is afraid are becoming harder and harder to explain. “Sure,” he says, deciding. “I’d be happy to take your sister to the dance.”

“Great!” says Roberts, looking relieved. “If you guys don’t hit it off, you don’t have to keep hanging out with her after the dance. But at least this way she’ll get to have her romantic Valentine’s Day fantasy with someone I trust.” He grins. “Thanks, Hux!”

“Of course,” says Hux, a bit woodenly. “Thank you.”

At this moment, Hux’s robot succeeds in extricating itself from whatever it had gotten itself caught behind. It zooms suddenly out from under the bed, passing between Roberts’ legs, and then immediately traps itself again under Mitaka’s bed. “What the fuck!” Roberts yells. Then he starts to laugh. “You’re really one in a million, Hux.”

“Sorry,” Hux says. 

***

Two days later, Hux and Ben are on the phone, discussing weekend plans, while Mitaka is in class. Ben is looking for last-minute motel deals around West Point, eliminating any options with multiple reviews that mention cockroaches. 

“At least we don’t need to get a room for the following weekend,” Hux says. “They’re giving us a special pass for Valentine’s Day, so I can just come down to the city instead.”

“Really?” Ben says. “I’m kind of surprised they would do that, but that’s awesome.”

“They’re having this stupid dinner and dance on Saturday night,” Hux says. “It’s mandatory. At least, the dinner part is. But we can sign out on pass afterwards.”

Ben laughs. “So this is, like, your officially-sanctioned opportunity to get laid? I don’t even know why I’m surprised that that would be a thing.”

“I guess so,” Hux says. 

“And of course they would make the dance mandatory,” Ben continues. “What kind of sadist forces people to go to a Valentine’s Day dance against their will?”

“Yeah,” Hux says, morosely. “Well, you said it: ‘Everything not forbidden is compulsory.’ You were right about that.”

“What’s with you?” Ben asks. “You’ve been weird and mopey lately. Are you actually upset about having to go to this dance?”

“No,” Hux says. “It’s fine.”

“Then what’s up?”

Hux sighs. “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you this or not,” he says, “but I told this guy in my company that I’d take his sister as my date.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Ben says, “Wait. What?”

“I agreed to take my friend’s sister to the Valentine’s Day dance.”

“I heard you the first time,” Ben says, furiously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Ben,” says Hux. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not a real date.”

“Does she know that?”

“Um,” says Hux. “I suppose not.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Ben says, sounding more bewildered than angry for a second. “Just... what the fuck, Hux. I can’t believe you would do this.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be so upset.”

“Right,” Ben says, his voice rising. “I mean, sure, why the fuck would I be upset? Just because you have these - these romantic fucking Valentine’s Day plans with someone else? I guess you thought I’d be thrilled because you still want me on call to suck your dick afterwards.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yeah? Then what the fuck is it like?”

“This is good for us,” Hux insists. “If people start to suspect that I’m - that I’m not interested in women, then I won’t be able to see you anymore. I think this will make people less suspicious.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben says. “How far are you planning to go with that? You going to fuck her too?” 

“No!”

“Why not? Why don’t you go ahead and fuck her in front of all your stupid fucking friends up there? Really prove to everyone how much you love pussy?” His voice is loud enough now to be painful. 

Hux winces, holding the phone away from his ear. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” he says. “I’ll call you back later.”

“Don’t bother,” Ben says brusquely. “Unless you’re calling me back to tell me you canceled this bullshit.”

“I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“What am I going to say?” Hux snaps. “That I’m sorry, I can’t go to the dance with this girl because my _boyfriend_ is pissed about it?”

“That is so unfair and manipulative,” Ben says, his voice cracking. “I don’t fucking believe you, Hux.”

“What? Why? How am I being manipulative?”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me your boyfriend and you do it like this! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hux hadn’t entirely realized that. “Oh,” he says, taken aback. “I mean, you’ve said it before. And I didn’t object.”

“You didn’t _object_ ,” Ben repeats mockingly. “Yeah, that really warms the heart. Bye, Hux.” He hangs up.

Hux sits frozen, holding the receiver in his hand, staring straight ahead, until the phone starts to beep at him. He hangs up. After a few minutes, he tries to call Ben back. Ben’s phone is turned off.

***

_x75717: Ben?_

_x75717: are you there?_

***

On Saturday, it snows. Mitaka is off on another trip with the Jewish choir - Hux had turned down the chance to go because he had expected Ben to visit this weekend - so Hux sits alone in his room, trying to concentrate on writing code. For the moment, he’s given up on trying to solve his robot’s navigational bugs in favor of writing the section that will allow it to beep the National Anthem. The electronic chirping is a cheerful sound in the otherwise silent room. 

Outside, the softly-falling snow is gradually turning the parade field into a picture from a postcard. Hux can feel the cold seeping in around the edges of the window by his desk. He tries not to think about what it would have been like to be in bed with Ben as the snow piled up outside. 

By evening, he can’t stand it anymore. He tries to call Ben’s cell phone. It rings, but Ben doesn’t pick up. 

He goes to the mess hall for dinner. The snow is still falling; it swirls through the circles of light under the lamps by the walkway. The statues of Eisenhower and MacArthur look like ghosts in the white dimness.

When he gets back, he glances hopefully at his phone, but the message light isn’t flashing. He goes back to work. 

Just before he goes to bed, he tries Ben’s cell phone one more time. Still no answer. Feeling desperate, he calls the Solos’ landline.

“Hello?” He recognizes Leia’s voice. She sounds tired. 

“Hello,” says Hux, trying to sound normal. “I’m sorry to call so late, but is Ben there?”

“Oh, hi, Hux,” she says. “No, he’s not. I don’t expect him back tonight. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Do you happen to know where he is?”

Leia hesitates. “Why, is he not answering his own phone?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Hux,” she says gently, “I hope you and Ben can work out whatever is going on between the two of you. But if he doesn’t feel like talking right now, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to help you track him down.”

“Okay,” says Hux miserably. “Sorry.”

“I’ll let him know you called.”

“No, actually, please don’t.”

“All right,” she says. “You sound upset. Would you like to talk to me about it?” 

“No,” he says. “But thank you. Good night.”

“Good night, Hux. Try to get some sleep.”

Hux hangs up, feeling both furious and helpless. 

***

On Sunday morning, Hux tries to go for a run; the sun is out and the sky is clear and sharply blue, but the sidewalk is so slippery that Hux gives up and limps back to his room after nearly falling twice. The surface of the snow seems to have melted and then re-frozen, leaving the campus encased in a layer of ice. 

As he opens the door, his phone rings. His heart is pounding as he picks it up, but it’s only Mitaka, asking Hux to let their company commander know that the Jewish choir is snowed in in New Jersey and won’t be back until at least the following day. Mitaka sounds positively delighted by this development. _No wonder_ , Hux thinks sourly. _He’s probably wheedled them into bringing Thanisson along. And now they get another night together._

Hux spends a frustrating afternoon trying to program his robot to back up slightly and make incremental turns when it encounters an obstacle. He’s fairly confident that the logical sequence of his code is correct. But the robot just backs up and then crashes into the side of his desk, over and over again. Hux checks and rechecks his code, making slight adjustments that fail to resolve the problem, until he feels ludicrously close to tears. 

Finally, hours later, it occurs to him suddenly that the problem might not be with his code - it looks, he thinks, almost as if the robot is only executing the beginning of the algorithm, as if it doesn’t have the energy to get all the way through it. He changes the robot’s batteries and tries again. This time, when the robot crashes into the desk, it backs up slightly and corrects itself, feeling its way along the obstacle until it has turned enough to clear it. It zooms joyfully across the room. Hux puts his hands over his face, feeling both idiotic and relieved.

***

_x75717: ben_

_x75717: stop doing this_

_x75717: what is this, the silent treatment?_

_x75717: are we twelve?_

_Ky10_R3n: are you messaging me to let me know that you finally grew some balls and told your buddy that you’re not into his sister?_

_x75717: no_

_Ky10_R3n: then leave me alone_

***

By 9PM on Valentine’s Day, Hux is entirely exhausted, on every level, emotionally and physically. He had managed to beg out of a Friday-night dinner with Roberts’ family, citing his need to work on his robot project, but he remains grimly determined to go through with his date as planned. 

Brooke is, as advertised, pretty, and, presumably, “a good girl.” She has frosted blond hair, very blue eyes, and a gymnast’s compact, muscular build. She is wearing a floor-length powder-blue dress and a fluffy white fur jacket. She looks lovely. She seems delighted by everything at West Point: the gothic architecture; the cadets in their full-dress uniforms, with their tailcoats and rows of brass buttons; the soaring ceiling of the mess hall (“It looks like the one at Hogwarts!”); and the orchid corsage that Roberts had had to remind Hux to order for her. 

At dinner, she tells Hux about herself: she is a junior in high school, and in addition to cheerleading, she rides horses competitively. Hux has no idea what to say to any of this. His high school in Manhattan didn’t have cheerleaders, and he has primarily experienced horses as a minor irritation in Central Park. He rode one once, on an elementary-school field trip to a farm in Upstate New York that was meant to give inner-city children a chance to experience fresh air and rural life. They also milked a cow, which Hux found mildly disgusting. He tells Brooke this. She laughs.

“New Yorkers are so funny,” she says. “I love visiting New York, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” Hux refrains from rolling his eyes at that.

He feels more comfortable when she peppers him with questions about West Point. She seems interested in everything: how the admissions process works, what basic training is like, what the different uniforms and rank insignias represent. 

“What’s it really like here for female cadets?” she asks, as they walk down the hill from the mess hall to the Eisenhower Hall ballroom after dinner. It’s a crisp, starry night; the walkways have been cleared of snow, and her high heels make sharp, precise sounds against the concrete. “I keep trying to ask my brother to help me start the application process, but he just tells me they’d eat me alive here. He says he knows what the guys here are like and that he would never want me to be alone with them.” She laughs and squeezes Hux’s arm lightly. “No offense.”

“None taken,” says Hux, surprised by the turn of the conversation. It had never occurred to him that a cheerleader from Texas might want to become a soldier. He has also never given much thought to the question of what life is like for female cadets. He has a sudden memory of Rose Tico’s tearful face the day they cut off her hair, and the sight of her covered in blood after her fall, still struggling to keep up with the formation of runners. He decides not to mention that. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about this,” he says, “but I can put you in touch with some of the cadet girls if you want to talk to them.”

“Thanks, Hux! That would be awesome!” She beams at him, squeezing his arm again. “Do they have a cheerleading squad here?”

“They do, actually. They’re really good. Better than the football team.” 

She laughs. “It’s like that at my high school too,” she says. “You can tell my brother I said that. He was on the team.”

“I’ll pass that on,” Hux promises.

As they walk into the ballroom, Brooke giggles at the sight of the cadets in their formal uniforms jumping around awkwardly to the beat of a pop song playing through tinny speakers. Every so often, there’s an earsplitting blast of feedback. “I kind of thought they’d be playing classical music, like a waltz or something,” she says. “Everything else here is so elegant.”

“I would have preferred that too,” Hux says, grimacing. Hux uses music mostly as white noise - to drown out Mitaka, among other irritants. He rarely listens to any music that has lyrics, which he finds distracting.

Hux had relaxed slightly as they talked, but he returns to feeling increasingly uncomfortable as a slow song comes on and Brooke pulls him onto the dance floor. She nestles against him, her hips against his, her head on his shoulder, gently guiding him with a hand on his waist. Her hair smells like strawberry shampoo. He can feel her breath on his neck. 

He wonders if the cadet regulations include any specific limitations on how much physical contact is allowed during a dance; he suspects they do, but no one comes to separate them. 

Over her shoulder, he spots Mitaka and Thanisson leaning against a wall near the back of the room. Thanisson is turned away from Hux, facing Mitaka; Mitaka has his hand on Thanisson’s bicep. As Hux watches, Mitaka doubles over laughing, presumably at something hilarious that Thanisson has said. _At least_ someone _is happy_ , Hux thinks drearily. He’s relieved when the song ends and something faster comes on.

“Can we go back outside?” Brooke asks. “It’s such a pretty night. I want to go look at the view from Trophy Point.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to see much of it in the dark,” Hux objects, but he follows her back outside and up the hill. She slides her cold little hand into his as they walk. He pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says, “we’re not allowed to hold hands in uniform.” This is true. “I’m only allowed to offer you my arm.”

Brooke laughs. “This place is so funny and old-fashioned,” she says, taking his arm. “Really, they have a rule about handholding?”

“The cadet SOP has a whole section on public displays of affection,” he says. “The bottom line is, they’re not allowed. Male and female cadets aren’t even allowed to sit on the same horizontal surface.”

“Oh yeah, my brother told me about that rule. Do they really enforce it?”

“They do. People get in trouble for it all the time.”

“That’s so crazy,” she says. They’re passing through a tunnel now, on their way up the hill; it’s very dark. She tugs at his arm. “How much trouble would you get into for doing this?” she asks, stretching up to kiss him.

Hux freezes, not sure what to do. Her mouth is very small and soft - _like kissing a child_ , Hux thinks, feeling slightly ill. “A lot of trouble,” he says, pulling away. 

“Mmm, good,” she says, kissing him again. This time, she slides her tongue into his mouth. He jerks away instinctively. 

“Really, I can’t,” he says, feeling trapped and panicky. “I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, sounding hurt. “I’m not trying to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I mean, of course I want to,” Hux says miserably. “I just - I can’t - we’re not allowed - “

“I get it,” she says, sighing. She laughs a little. “My brother did say you were a real stickler for all the rules here.”

“I try to be,” Hux says, quite honestly.

“I guess we might as well go look at the view,” she says glumly. 

“Yes, let’s,” says Hux, relieved. He follows her out of the tunnel and up to the crest of the hill. From behind a low wall with a plaque on it that memorializes the Bataan Death March, they can see where the Hudson narrows around a sharp bend. Moonlight glitters on the ice floes in the river and on the snow under the trees on either side.

“It is really beautiful,” Brooke says in a small, deflated voice. Her earlier enthusiasm seems to have drained away. “But I think I’d like to go back to the hotel now.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Hux says, less out of gallantry than from a feeling that he should see this through to the end.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay.” They walk along the path overlooking the river in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. Hux bites his lower lip until it bleeds, wondering if he should have made more of an effort to seem interested in kissing her. If only they had been caught, a disciplinary board for engaging in inappropriate behavior with a girl would certainly have helped to allay any suspicions that anyone might have about Hux. It would even have created a documentary record of his attraction to women. 

On the other hand, getting in trouble for kissing her would have meant walking hours and being put on restriction, which would have kept him from seeing Ben. Not that Ben necessarily wants to see him anyway. Hux sighs. 

“Thank you for the beautiful flowers and the nice evening,” Brooke says flatly as they arrive at the hotel, and goes inside without waiting for Hux to respond. Hux looks at his watch and walks back to the barracks as fast as he can. If he hurries, he can still make the last train to the city. 

He tries to call Ben’s cell phone one more time from his room; no answer. He calls a cab anyway.

The hour-long train ride to Grand Central gives Hux plenty of time to reconsider his brief moment of feeling certain that Ben wouldn’t actually turn him away if he showed up unexpectedly on Ben’s doorstep. _I’m acting like an idiot_ , he thinks. _The risk I’ve been taking with him was always a mistake; if he doesn’t want to see me, I should just move on and be grateful we didn’t get caught._

The train is full of cadets and their dates, all chattering excitedly about their plans for their weekend in the city. Hux stares out into the rushing darkness beyond the train tracks, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone who might ask him how his night is going. 

It’s after midnight by the time Hux is standing in front of the Solos’ apartment building, looking at their name on the list next to the doorbell. He’s cold; his stomach hurts. It occurs to him that Ben’s parents might not appreciate being woken up by the intercom at this hour. He walks to the corner to find a pay phone. 

He feels a flash of relief when someone picks Ben’s cell phone up on the third ring, but it isn’t Ben - it’s a female voice that he doesn’t recognize. “Hello, who’s this?” She has a British accent.

“Hi,” says Hux, confused. “I’m sorry, I may have dialed the wrong number. Is Ben Solo there?”

“Ben? Oh, you mean Kylo. He’s in the shower.”

“Oh,” says Hux. “Yes, right - Kylo. Do you think you could get him? I’m calling from a pay phone and I don’t have enough quarters to call back.”

“Yes, just a moment. Kylo!” He hears muffled shouting on the other end of the line. 

After what seems like a long time, Ben picks up. “Yeah? Who is this?”

“It’s me,” Hux says. “Don’t hang up.”

Ben exhales hard into the phone. “What do you want?”

“I’m downstairs. Could you let me in? I need to talk to you.”

“Downstairs? Like, in front of my building?”

“Yeah. Well, on the corner.”

Ben sighs again. “Why are you here? Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“It’s over. And - you know why.” 

“Oh right,” Ben says cuttingly. “Is this the part where you’re done with your closeted bullshit for the evening and now you want to fuck someone who actually turns you on?”

“You know it’s not like that.” The phone _pip pips_ at him to indicate that he’s running out of time. He feeds it his last quarter. “Ben, could you please just let me in?”

“I’m not home.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m with Rey.”

“Rey?”

“I told you about her. Poe hooked me up with her so she could help me with my art-school applications. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“Wait - sleeping there? With her - you’re - ” _Really, one fight and you’re already fucking someone else?_ Hux thinks, feeling suddenly nauseous. 

“Not like that,” Ben says, sounding annoyed. “As in, sleeping on an air mattress on the floor of her dorm room. She has a boyfriend. He goes to another school.” In the background, Rey says something that Hux can’t quite hear. Ben laughs. “Yeah - the same boyfriend as Poe. They’re both dating him? Or she’s dating both of them? I don’t know, it’s complicated. It always is, with Poe.”

“Okay,” says Hux, feeling partially recovered and entirely uninterested in the complexities of Poe’s romantic life. “Ben, I’m out of quarters for this stupid phone - could I come meet you somewhere?”

Ben is silent for a moment. “Do you even have a place to stay tonight if I say no?”

“Er,” says Hux. “I could go home, but I don’t want to see my father right now. Do I need to go find a hotel room?” His voice comes out sounding significantly more forlorn than he had intended.

Ben sighs. “Just stay where you are. I’ll come home and let you in.” He hangs up.

Hux walks back to Ben’s building and sits down on the stoop; the granite steps are like a block of ice underneath him. He feels both enormously relieved and as if he has finally sacrificed the last shreds of his dignity. He puts his head in his hands.

He jerks awake some time later when someone touches his shoulder. “I was going to yell at you,” Ben says, “but you looked so pathetic, sleeping on the stoop like this, that I changed my mind.”

“Good,” says Hux, uncurling his legs and trying to stand up. He feels half-frozen. Ben hauls him up by the wrist; as he stands, Hux gives into impulse and wraps his arms around Ben’s waist, squeezing him, letting his head drop onto Ben’s shoulder with a sigh. The cotton fabric of Ben’s black hoodie is soft and comforting under his cheek. He inhales, breathing in the smell of Ben’s skin and hair. Ben freezes, standing stiffly in his arms for a moment, before relaxing against him. 

“I’m still mad at you,” Ben says, turning his head to nuzzle Hux’s face. He strokes Hux’s back. “But I’m not going to lie, it’s good to see you.”

“I honestly didn’t realize you were going to be so angry about this date thing,” Hux says into Ben’s neck. _You know I only want to be with you_ , he thinks. “You know it was only - only about appearances.”

“But that’s the whole problem,” Ben says. “Like, being your dirty little secret is kind of fun, up to a point. But a lot of the time it just sucks.”

“You’re not my dirty little secret.” 

“Aren’t I? Hux, I can’t even talk to you on the phone most of the time because if Mitaka is there you just make ‘mm-hmm’ noises at everything I say. Even though, let’s not kid ourselves, he totally knows what’s going on with us.” 

“Maybe,” says Hux. “But the point is that right now he doesn’t know anything concrete that he could tell anyone.”

“Which he can’t do anyway, because you’ll report him if he does,” Ben says, starting to sound exasperated again. He stops stroking Hux’s back so that he can gesture irritably with his hands. “What I’m trying to say is that this closeted crap is driving me crazy. I mean, like right now, you wouldn’t even be hugging me like this, outside the apartment, if it weren’t the middle of the night. Every time I touch you in public, even if it’s just your arm or your shoulder or something, you look around like you’re afraid of getting caught shoplifting.”

“It’s not as if I want it to be that way either,” Hux says unhappily, muffled in Ben’s sweatshirt. Ben is so warm and solid in his arms; he just wants to stop talking and lie down with him. He kisses Ben’s neck. “Can we go upstairs?”

“I guess,” Ben says. “It’s freezing out here. I don’t know how you managed to fall asleep on the stoop in this weather.”

“Military training,” Hux says. “Once during basic I fell asleep in a pile of trash I was supposed to be guarding. At least your stoop is clean. And dry.”

“You didn’t even hear me walk up. You’re lucky no one snuck up on you and stole your stupid messenger bag.”

“Right,” says Hux, feeling slightly hysterical. “Because the Upper East Side is such a well-known hub of robbery and violence.”

“True,” Ben says, squeezing him. “This is probably more of an insider-trading type of neighborhood.”

Once they’re upstairs, Hux pushes Ben down on the bed, thinking about how ridiculous it is that he’s missed being here so much, sharing a twin bed next to the hissing radiator. He climbs on top of Ben, straddling him and kissing him. Ben kisses him back - and the taste of his mouth, the feeling of his hands sliding down Hux’s back is so good, such a relief. But when Hux tries to grind down against him, it doesn’t feel as if Ben is getting hard. He leans over to run the tip of his tongue along the inside of Ben’s ear - that always works.

This time it doesn’t. Ben puts his hands on Hux’s shoulders, gently pushing him away. He leans back against the headboard. “Hux,” he says, sounding tired, “don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really in the mood. Can we just go to sleep?”

“That’s a first,” Hux says, trying not to sound hurt. He curls against Ben’s side, his head on Ben’s chest. They’re both still fully dressed; their shoes dangle off the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, well. These last couple of weeks have really sucked.”

“You’re telling me. You’re the one who wouldn’t pick up the phone.” 

Ben slides his hand into Hux’s hair, stroking the back of his head with his thumb. “I just didn’t want to wind up screaming at you again.”

“Honestly, I think I would have preferred that.”

To Hux’s surprise, Ben laughs, his chest shaking under Hux’s cheek. “Awww, Hux,” he says, “I think that’s the most affectionate thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Hux flushes. “You’re not exactly the hearts-and-flowers type yourself,” he says. “I think the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me was when you told me I could come in your mouth anytime I wanted to.”

“That’s romantic,” Ben insists. “It shows passion. And commitment.”

“Or it just shows that you really like giving blowjobs.”

“Trust me, I don’t say that to every guy I blow,” Ben says. “And, hey, which would you rather have? Hearts and flowers or me sucking your cock?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”

“Exactly. So don’t complain.” Ben nudges Hux with his knee. “You going to sleep like this? In your dorky pants that you have to iron?”

“My trousers aren’t dorky. They’re classic.”

“That’s one way to describe them,” Ben says. “You’re lucky I have a thing for older men. Because you dress like you’re eighty-five most of the time.”

“I know you prefer to look like a version of Count Dracula who shops at the Gap,” Hux says, sitting up and pulling off his shirt, “but some of us actually want to be taken seriously.”

“I take you seriously,” Ben says, smirking at Hux. “Especially when you’re begging me to let you come.”

“I thought you weren’t in the mood.”

“I wasn’t, but now you’re insulting me while you slowly take off your clothes,” Ben says. “I’m only human.” 

“Well, you missed your chance,” Hux says, unzipping his trousers and hoping Ben will decide to persuade him otherwise. “Too late now.”

Ben yawns. “That’s okay,” he says. “I’m just really tired. I haven’t been sleeping lately. It’s hard for me to sleep by myself when I’m stressed out.”

“Is that why you were having that little sleepover party with your friend?” Hux toes off his shoes and hangs his slacks neatly over the back of a chair. In just his boxers, he slides into his customary spot between Ben and the wall. He’s somewhat disappointed that Ben doesn’t seem interested in the raucous reunion sex he had been half-hoping for, but it’s still an overwhelming relief to be back here, in the warm darkness, with his head on Ben’s bicep and their legs tangled together. The fabric of Ben’s jeans is rough against his bare legs. 

“Rey? Yeah,” Ben says. “She’s been taking care of me a lot lately. I feel really bad, actually. She was supposed to go up to Rhode Island to see Poe and Finn for Valentine’s Day, but she stayed here to keep me company.”

“I see,” says Hux suspiciously. “Taking care of you how?”

“Hux, relax,” Ben says. “I told you how things ended with Poe last time. Do you really think that what I want now is to be part of, like, a polyamorous foursome with him?”

“Actually, being part of a polyamorous foursome is exactly the kind of thing I would always have expected you to do,” Hux says. “It would go with your hairstyle. And your taste in jewelry.”

Ben laughs. “Okay, it sounds fun in theory,” he says, “but in reality it would probably just make me crazy. I couldn’t handle being with Poe even when it was just the two of us. I can barely handle being with you.”

“Thanks, that’s great to hear.”

“The thing with Rey - “ Ben says, then pauses, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess a lot of it is, I just feel stuck. You know, everyone I know has gone off to college, and I’m still here. In my mom’s apartment. Because I fucked up.” 

“Aren’t you taking college classes too?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ben rolls his eyes. “Introductory math and language arts classes at a community college downtown. Because my mom insisted. It’s not even up to the level we were studying in high school.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway - Rey’s been helping me get my portfolio together, and figure out what art schools are looking for, and just - making me feel like I can actually do something.”

Hux considers making a comment about some of the things Ben can do, but decides to keep it to himself.

“And I think she’s lonely, although she doesn’t say so. She’s kind of like you, actually,” Ben says. “She’s estranged from her family. She’s British.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “I love being summed up entirely in reference to my father and a country I left when I was seven.”

“She’s ambitious and determined like you, too,” Ben says. “And she’s an engineer. You’d like her, I think.”

“If she’s an engineer, why is she helping you with your art-school applications?” Hux asks, not wanting to acknowledge how warmed he is by the compliment.

“She’s studying mechanical engineering at Columbia, but she’s been taking a lot of visual-arts classes. She uses her engineering background in her art - she designs these crazy mobile sculptures that are, like, giant wind-powered robots. She’s made some small mock-ups out of scrap metal that are amazing. Anyway, she’s thinking about transferring out of engineering to study art full-time.”

“That sounds like the kind of terrible decision that I would expect one of your friends to make.”

Ben punches Hux lightly in the shoulder, and stands up to undress. “I’m so glad I can always count on you to be supportive,” he says. “Go to sleep, Hux.”

***

At some point during the night, Hux dreams about an enormous wave. In his dream, he and Ben are back at Brighton Beach, sitting on the boardwalk. When he looks over Ben’s shoulder, he sees a vast tsunami, like a foaming mountain, coming from the wrong direction. The ocean, the normal choppy grey Atlantic Ocean, is behind Hux. The impossible wave has already swallowed the city and is about to break over both of them. Along the beach, the lights are going out. Hux wakes up gasping for air. 

In the dark, he reaches for Ben’s hand; Ben makes a small sound in his sleep and rolls over to hug Hux tightly from behind. With his back against Ben’s warm chest, Hux’s panicked breathing gradually slows to match Ben’s. Eventually he drifts back to sleep, still clutching Ben’s hand. 

In the morning, Hux wakes, much more pleasantly, to the feeling of Ben rubbing up against him, snuffling at his neck, his body warm with sleep. His hard cock is a line of heat against Hux’s ass. “Want to fuck you,” Ben mumbles into his hair. 

Hux tenses. “Okay,” he says, tentatively. They haven’t done that yet. Hux isn’t sure he wants to. He’s thought about it, occasionally - well, more than occasionally, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s watched Ben shudder and cry out as Hux fucked him and wondered how it would feel. He’s woken up hard, too, after dreams in which Ben or some other shadowy figure held him down and kicked his legs apart, forced Hux to take his cock. But something about getting fucked in real life seems - irrevocable, maybe, compromising in a way that letting Ben suck him off or ride him isn’t. 

“Mmm, hi,” Ben says, sleepily. It sounds as if he’s just woken up. He stretches, arching his back, still rubbing luxuriantly against Hux. “You smell good,” he says, wrapping his arms around Hux and sliding one warm hand down over Hux’s stomach, into his shorts. Hux rocks back against him, feeling enjoyably trapped between Ben’s hard body and Ben’s big hand stroking his cock awake.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Hux pants. “You still want to fuck me now that you’re awake?”

Ben’s hand pauses on his cock. “You want me to? I didn’t think you were into that.”

“I don’t know,” Hux says honestly. “I’ve never done it.”

Ben kisses the back of his neck, open-mouthed. Hux shivers. “You ever try anything else? Fingers, toys?”

“No.”

“Well, we can take it slow.” He sits up on his elbow and pushes at Hux’s shoulder. “Roll over.”

Hux rolls over onto his stomach, tensing as Ben kisses his back, between his shoulder blades. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm,” Ben says, kissing his way down Hux’s spine. “Going to lick you open, get you nice and relaxed.”

“I - I need to take a shower first. I didn’t take one last night.”

“I don’t care,” Ben says, his mouth hot on the small of Hux’s back. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Hux’s shorts. “I like the way you taste when you’re sweaty and dirty. It’s more interesting.”

“I’ll feel more comfortable if I shower,” Hux says, squirming away. 

Ben shrugs. “Suit yourself. Can I come with you?”

“Sure.”

There’s no clock in Ben’s room - clocks keep him awake, Ben has said - but the pale light coming through the windows suggests that it’s still early. Hux hopes Ben’s parents are still asleep. 

Under the shower spray, Ben crowds Hux against the wall, his hands on Hux’s hips, his mouth on the curve where Hux’s neck meets his shoulder. Hux shivers at the feeling of Ben’s stubble on his wet skin. Somewhat to Hux’s surprise, Ben reaches for the shampoo, pours some into his palm, and begins rubbing it through Hux’s short hair.

“I didn’t come in here because I desperately needed to wash my hair,” Hux remarks, bumping his hips back against Ben. He’s pleased to find that Ben is still hard, sliding against him.

“I’m trying to get you to relax,” Ben says, sliding his fingers over Hux’s scalp, rubbing his temples. “You’re so tense. You know we don’t have to do this, right?”

“I know. I want to.”

“Then close your eyes and let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay. Fine.” Hux closes his eyes reluctantly; when he’s anxious about doing something, he prefers to put his head down, grit his teeth, and get through it as efficiently as possible. Although he supposes that might be counterproductive in this case. It feels good, admittedly, to close his eyes and breathe in the steam and the scent of shampoo, to let himself enjoy Ben’s strong fingers massaging his scalp, rubbing the tension out of muscles at the base of his skull that feel as if they’ve been clenched for weeks. Ben’s thumbs move down the back of his neck to dig into his shoulders, and he breathes out slowly. 

He lets his soapy head drop back onto Ben’s shoulder as Ben’s hands work their way slowly down his spine. Ben squeezes his ass and then reaches for the soap. “Is this more what you had in mind?” Ben asks, sliding a slippery finger between Hux’s cheeks. Hux breathes in hard and braces himself against the wall as Ben’s finger teasingly circles his rim. “You like that?”

“Mhmm.” Ben’s finger slides inside him, just a bit. It feels - weird and different, but not bad. It makes him want Ben to touch his cock. He grabs Ben’s other hand and pulls it toward his erection as Ben slides his finger deeper.

“You want me to jerk you off like this?” Ben asks, close to his ear, stroking the head of Hux’s cock lightly. “Make you come all over yourself while I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes - mmm - “ Hux bucks his hips forward, trying to thrust against Ben’s hand. Ben squeezes his cock firmly once, then goes back to teasing it with his fingertips. 

“I don’t know,” Ben says, breathing hard. He slides his finger out of Hux, tracing infuriating little circles around Hux’s rim. Hux makes an involuntary sound in his throat. “You’re so tight and hot, I think I want to fuck you first. Before I let you come. You want that? You think you can take it?”

“Is this the part where I tell you how scared I am because I’m a virgin and your dick is so big?” Hux asks, although it’s hard to sound entirely sarcastic when he’s squirming and panting in Ben’s hands. Ben is soaping up Hux’s cock now as if he’s truly concerned about making sure it’s clean.

Ben laughs. “If you want to play it that way,” he says. “But I know you’re not scared of my huge cock. You love it.” He grabs Hux’s hips and pulls Hux back against him, sliding his erection between Hux’s slippery thighs with a groan. “Tell me you love it.”

“Fine - I love your huge cock,” Hux says, still intending to sound sarcastic, but it comes out more breathy and earnest than he intended. Ben whimpers, thrusting his hips, as Hux clenches his thighs around it.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Ben gasps. “How is your skin so soft? Let’s rinse off and get back to my room. I want to fuck you for real.”

Once they’re out of the shower and back in Ben’s bed, Ben pushes Hux down on his hands and knees and licks into him, first circling Hux’s hole with the tip of his tongue and then sliding his tongue in and out until Hux is nearly sobbing, pushing back frantically against Ben’s face. 

“Ah, fuck,” Ben says, sitting up and reaching for the lube. “You have no idea how fucking hot it is to listen to you completely losing it when I’ve got my tongue in your ass.”

Hux rolls over onto his back so that he can look at Ben. Ben is kneeling between Hux’s spread legs; his big ears poke through his damp hair. His lips and his cock are the same color, swollen and flushed dark red. “Are you ever going to actually fuck me, or are you just going to sit there and talk?” Hux asks.

Ben smirks at him. “Can’t wait, huh? You want it that bad?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had it.” Hux rubs Ben’s cock with his foot, pushing it against his abs. Ben jerks at the touch. “I’m still waiting to find out if you actually know what you’re doing or if this huge cock you keep talking about is just for decoration.”

Ben laughs. “You don’t think I know what I’m doing?” He pours lube over the first two fingers of his right hand and leans forward. “I guess I’ll have to show you what I can do.”

Hux starts to say something, but then Ben’s thick finger is inside him, sliding past his initial discomfort to jolt a spot inside him that feels - good, really good. So much so that he arches his back and gasps, open-mouthed, clenching around Ben’s finger. 

Ben is watching his face raptly. “I’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he says, breathing hard. He’s moving his finger in little circles now, rubbing at that spot, drawing embarrassingly high-pitched sounds out of the back of Hux’s throat. Hux feels pinned, trapped, as though his body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure building and building at the base of his spine. “You like that?”

“Jesus,” Hux says eloquently. He’s so hard it’s almost painful. He needs - something. “Can you touch me - please - “

Ben bends to suck the head of Hux’s cock into his mouth for a moment, swirling his tongue around it, licking the wetness off the tip. Hux groans and tries to push his head back down as he pulls away. “Sorry,” Ben says, grinning, still moving his finger in those torturous little circles inside Hux. “You don’t get to come until I fuck you. I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

“Do it then,” Hux says, panting, grinding his hips down onto Ben’s hand.

“You want it? Tell me you want it,” Ben says, leaning over him, his breathing ragged. “Say _please_ again.”

Hux is too far gone to be self-conscious. “I want it - please - please fuck me - please make me come - “

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot when you beg,” Ben says, pulling his finger slowly out of Hux. He rolls on a condom and slicks it with lube. Hux spreads his legs wider and arches his back impatiently, watching Ben’s big hand stroking his cock. Ben pushes Hux’s knees back towards his chest and squeezes his eyes shut as he starts to push slowly into him. “Ah - fuck - you’re so tight - you’re going to make me come before we even get started - “

Hux takes a deep breath, trying to relax. The discomfort he’d felt when Ben first slid his finger into him is back, and worse, enough to bring tears to his eyes. He feels stretched impossibly wide, split in half. He wonders, for a moment, why he ever wanted to do this. Then the head of Ben’s cock nudges that spot inside him and the pleasure is back too, pulsing hotly inside him with each little movement. “Ah!”

“You okay?” Ben asks, opening his eyes. “You want me to stop?”

“No - it’s good - don’t stop - “

“Oh fuck,” Ben whimpers, sliding all the way in. “Oh fuck - you feel so good - I’m so close - “

“Don’t come yet,” Hux orders, digging his heels into Ben’s back, squeezing down around Ben’s thick cock, heat curling liquidly up his spine. “Want you to fuck me. Show me what you can do.”

“I’m trying,” Ben says, his breath coming in little sobbing gasps. He’s moving his hips now, tentatively at first, then more confidently, finding a rhythm as Hux rocks back against him. “Fuck - oh, fuck - you like that?”

“Yes - more - please - “ Every thrust is hitting Hux exactly where he needs it, wringing more embarrassing little sounds out of him. “Don’t stop - “

“Oh - shit - I can’t - “ Ben slams into Hux once, twice, and arches his back, his body going rigid as he shudders through his orgasm. He collapses on top of Hux, panting against his chest. “Uh... sorry.”

“That was a lot of buildup for not a lot of you fucking me,” Hux observes. He’s bent awkwardly in half under Ben, partially squashed. His cock throbs, trapped between them. 

Ben laughs, a little sheepishly. “I couldn’t help it,” he says. “I’ll make it up to you.” He sits up and pulls out gingerly, peeling off the condom and throwing it away. He flops down on his back next to Hux, smiling lazily. “You want to punish me for coming too fast? Maybe hold me down and fuck my face?”

“Fuck, yes,” Hux says immediately. He gets up on his knees and turns to face the headboard, swinging one leg over so that he’s straddling Ben’s face. He rubs the head of his cock over Ben’s full lips, enjoying the way Ben’s eyes drift shut as his tongue comes out to lick at it, as if he’s savoring the taste. Ben’s dark hair is spread out around his flushed face like a halo. 

Hux grips the headboard and sinks down into Ben’s soft mouth with a groan. Ben starts sucking him hard immediately, sloppy and wet around Hux’s cock, making little choked-off noises as Hux’s hips jerk. Then Ben brings his hands up to squeeze Hux’s ass, sliding one finger up inside him while he rubs the sensitive spot behind Hux’s balls with his thumb, and it’s too much - Hux is coming down Ben’s throat, shivering and gasping through an orgasm that seems to go on and on.

“Mmm,” Ben says sleepily as Hux’s cock slides out of his mouth. “You always taste so good. Come here.” He holds out his arms and Hux lies down on top of him, burying his face in Ben’s neck. Ben smells, not unpleasantly, like sweat. They’re both sweating now, their bodies sticking together. Ben wraps his arms around Hux, squeezing him.

“If you’d been wanting to fuck me for so long,” Hux says into Ben’s hair, “why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“Really?” Ben says. “I think you might have. With you, it’s like, every so often, you suddenly realize all over again that you’re actually having sex with another guy, and you freak out.”

“I do not,” Hux says indignantly, pulling away. “Believe me, I’m always aware that you’re a guy when I’m having sex with you.”

Ben laughs. “Yeah, you’re usually fine when we’re actually having sex,” he says. “It’s more during the time before and after sex that you start acting weird.” Hux starts to object again. “Trust me, you do. Anyway, if I had been like, ‘You have such a perfect little ass, I want to fuck you,’ I wasn’t sure if that would turn you on or just push you into another mini-meltdown.”

“I honestly don’t know what meltdowns you’re talking about,” Hux says irritably. “I’m not like you; I don’t get emotional about everything. And my performance evaluations at school always talk about how I’m good at staying calm and maintaining my military bearing in stressful situations.”

Ben laughs again, harder. “I’m not questioning your _military bearing,_ ” he says. “And I’m not saying that you scream and smash things. You have very quiet meltdowns. But I can tell when you look calm but secretly you’re shriveling up inside.”

“If that’s what you want to think,” Hux says disdainfully, “it’s not worth arguing about.”

“Hux, I’m not criticizing you,” Ben says, squeezing him tightly again. “I’m just saying. Sometimes you’re like a shy deer that I have be very careful about luring closer. Except that instead of breadcrumbs I use blowjobs.”

Hux laughs in spite of himself. “You’re a ridiculous person.”

“A ridiculous person with a ridiculously huge cock,” Ben reminds him, grinning. “That you were begging me to fuck you with.”

“Yes, and we saw how long that lasted.”

Ben smacks Hux’s ass. “It’s your own fault for being so hot,” he says. “And besides, any time you want to punish me for having no self-control, I’m always here for you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hux says, putting his head back down on Ben’s shoulder. He closes his eyes and lets the hum of traffic in the street outside lull him back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings:  
> \- Hux agrees to take a classmate’s sister to a dance; she kisses him and he is uncomfortable and makes her stop.  
> \- There’s no homophobic language or violence, but Hux’s internalized homophobia and the consequences of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy are a theme throughout the story.  
> \- There is a brief description (one sentence) of the hazing in “Pass Request.” It includes a reference to blood.  
> \- The version of Hux in this series generally tends to make problematic assumptions about people based on stereotypes; in this story, there are brief references to his stereotypical perspective on (among others) straight men, cheerleaders, and polyamorous people.  
> \- There’s a brief (one sentence) description of a rape fantasy that is not acted out.  
> \- Hux initially finds bottoming painful but ends up liking it.  
> \- Ben briefly references his mental-health issues in a self-hating way and also makes an unfairly disparaging remark about community college.
> 
> Also, for anyone who shares my interest in West Point trivia: West Point doesn’t actually have a mandatory Valentine’s Day dance. They do have other, similar events, mostly tied to milestones along the way to graduation. I made up this event because none of the actual mandatory dinner-dances worked with the timeline of the story, and I thought Ben’s reaction would make more sense in the context of a Valentine’s Day dance, versus a West Point-specific event that wouldn’t mean anything to him (such as, for example, Yearling Winter Weekend, which is an actual thing).


End file.
